


Summer of the Spiral Clouds

by chelonianmobile



Category: Homestuck, Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:17:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chelonianmobile/pseuds/chelonianmobile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Novice recorder Rose Lalonde shares some news. More might be forthcoming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dark days are upon the Abbey. Showers of stars warned us of the evil to come, and the great serpentine wizard Calmasis is even now gathering forces for an attack…

Alas, I lie. Abbot Crocker would surely scold me, but there are only so many ways one may write “everything is safe, the crops are wonderful, the weather is perfect” before it becomes unutterably dull, and my dear cousin Roxy agrees with me that wizards make everything more interesting. Perhaps I was more cut out to be a bard than a recorder.

Ah, Roxy, poor dear. I fear she was cut out far too well for her chosen profession of cellarmaid. Her drinking has only increased over the past season, and the Abbot, my mother, and I have had to hush many comments about how we run out of ale as fast as we make it. Fortunately our friend Dirk Strider keeps an eye on her, but he has his own problems. I suspect the issue is grief. Some seasons ago, Roxy’s mother (my aunt, the previous Recorder) and Dirk’s oldest brother (bearer of Martin’s sword, which was fortunately not with him at the time) disappeared in the woods, and no sign has been found of them since. Roxy puts a brave face on it, swearing that they will return one day and citing the tale of Bragoon and Saro. I have not the heart to remind her how that turned out.

For shame, Rose, using the Abbey’s records for gossip. Paper is precious, I must save my calculations for slates and not permanent books, especially not ones everybeast may read. But there is so very little of importance to write about! A hazard of living in times of relative peace, I suppose.

Well, I run low on ink, and so I must go and pluck violets to make my favourite shade. Even the dull and routine may be made interesting by fair penbeastship and attractive ink. 

_~Novice Rose, apprentice recorder of Redwall Abbey_


	2. Chapter 2

"Mister Strider, come down this instant!"

Novice Jane wrung her paws and fluffed her spikes nervously, watching the white blurs whirling and leaping upon the walltop. The oldest remaining of the Strider brothers, known only as “Bro”, balanced on the crenellations, sabre in paw, fencing both his younger brothers at once. Dirk and Dave sprung at him from both sides, almost colliding as he dodged and swung himself over the side of the wall, clinging on with all four paws, only just catching themselves. The three white squirrels moved like lightning, blades and smoked spectacles flashing in the summer sun.

"Don’t worry, Jane, we’ll get him this time!" shouted Dirk, the second-youngest, blade skimming Bro’s ear and clipping the tuft.

"That’s not what I’m worried about!"

Bro’s blade flicked out, the flat of the tip slapping hard against each younger brother’s inner wrist, making them shout and drop their swords; he flung his own in the air, caught the falling ones, and snatched his own from the air with his teeth, posing in order to allow the watching crowd to applaud; unfortunately, Dave at this point lost his grip on the wall, and fell. Dirk sprang to catch him, but missed…

"Oof!" Dave landed on the feathered back of one of the Abbey’s newest guests, a brown owl by the name of Rufioh Nitram. He let out a laugh of relief and clung on till Rufioh was close to the ground, then backflipped off and landed neatly on his feet, a perfect recovery from his moment of clumsiness. The crowd howled, and his brothers leaned over the wall and clapped.

"Dave!" Novice Rose scurried up to him and started brushing him down, checking him for injuries. "You can’t keep doing this."

"Sure we can!" Dave said, pushing her paws away.

Rose tutted. “One of these days you’re going to fall and there won’t be a bird around to catch you, and I will sit by your grave and laugh at you. Thank you, by the way, Mr Nitram.”

"Oh, uh, don’t mention it." The owl bowed deeply, showing the red-painted feathers atop his head.

"No, no, she should," said his travelling companion, Horuss Zahhak. This one was a badger, tall even by his species’ usual standards, wearing smoked lenses of the same type the Striders favoured and a long black coat trimmed with what looked like horse hair. His headfur was scraped back into an odd semblance of a mane, and his mouth was set in a broad grin. "That was quite an excellent piece of flying, Rufioh, to go with the excellent swordplay. I’m impressed, sirs."

"Uh, thanks, but can you stop with that weird look?" Dave said, backing away. "You’re frightening the Dibbuns and I ain’t too comfortable either."

"What? But this is my happy face. How could that be frightening?"

"Okay, okay, you wanna go round looking like you’re about to eat us that’s your problem."

"I do not look like that!"

The third and final member of the guests’ party shook her head, peeking out from under the veil hanging from her broad straw hat, and murmured “You do, you do.”

"Porrim!" Horuss said, hurt. The piebald bat nodded, and Horuss’ face dropped too quickly into a scowl. "Ow! Maybe you were right…" he mumbled, massaging his jaw amid muffled laughs from onlookers. Porrim put a hand on his shoulder, laughing.

"Come, come, noon approaches, approaches. Let us find a better way to occupy your mouth than hurting it, perhaps filling it with ale. Shall we, shall we?"

As the group turned to head back indoors, Bro Strider shouted “Wait!” His ears perked up and turned to pinpoint a sound. Dirk joined him in listening, and Jane and Rose hurried up the stairs to join them. Soon, they caught the sound of a merry song accompanied by tuneless plucking on strings, coming from a cloaked figure who was approaching up the dusty path.

 _"Oh, listen my dears to my song oh so vwitty, ‘bout a seamaid so fierce an’ so vwise an’ so pretty..._ nah, should that be the other vway round? Eh. _Rosepetal eyes an’ fur soft as clouds…_ vwhat the ‘ell rhymes vwith that?”

The song faded off into cursing, before the figure paused, surveyed the Abbey, and waved a paw with a cry of “Heyo the gate!”

"Heyo yourself," Dirk shouted down. "Name and business?"

"Cronus Ampora, singer an’ tale-teller, and vwery hungry."

Dirk allowed himself a slight lip-twitch which was the Strider family’s answer to a smile. “Drop the hood! We like to see who we’re letting in.”

The singer did so, giving the squirrels pause when they saw he was a rat; a big skinny searat with greasy grey fur, a sleazy smile, and a stick protruding from between his teeth, which he chewed lazily as he observed them. One of his paws held a stringed instrument decorated with fishbones, and a bow and quiver were slung on his back. He noted their uneasy looks and threw off the weapon, holding his paws out. Dirk looked at Bro, then at Jane. “Your thoughts, then?”

"I don’t know. He seems harmless… I don’t think he’s any older than Rufioh and his friends, how bad can he be?"

"Veil Sixclaw was younger than Dave, and look how that turned out," Bro said, clenching his paw on his sword hilt.

"Awv, come on, surely twvo sqvuirrel vwarriors can cope vwith one rat?" Cronus shouted up, making Jane jump.

Dirk bristled slightly, and Bro sighed. “Fine. _Vwait_ there and we’ll open up.”


	3. Chapter 3

Up close the rat looked even less threatening; he was thin as a rake beneath his tattered cloak, which had been purple once and had faded to a horrible greyish colour, and two jagged scars crossed his brow. His bow was less well-cared-for and less used-looking than his instrument. Dibbuns assembled behind the legs of the older beasts and peered out curiously, keen to see their first rat. He took it well, chuckling amicably and waving to the little creatures, before Jane caught his eye. He swept over to her and took her paw, bowing deeply and kissing it. She tried not to flinch as he wiggled his whiskers at her.

"Vwell, hello, miss, it's been a long time since I laid eyes on such a svweet little thing. So tell me, it true vwhat they say about hedgehogs?"

A small but distinct shadow fell over him, and he turned to see Abbot Crocker, bristling indignantly. The rat giggled. "Ah, which I mean in a totally harmless vway... This your dad?" Jane nodded, pursing her lips irritably. "Yeah, you get that expression from him," Cronus muttered, earning an icier glare. "I'll be shuttin' up nowv."

"So what's this?" Rose asked, looking approvingly at his instrument.

"Oh, the mandofin! Made it myself." Cronus plucked out a few notes with a blunted shark's tooth mounted on the ring on his index claw, tapping his other claws on the body of the instrument as a percussion accompaniment. Rose and Jane clapped politely and he bowed. "Thank ya, thank ya, I'll be here all vweek... heh, or at least till lunch. I play much better on a full belly."

"There's always space at our table," Abbot Crocker said, sternly adding "Several places away from my daughter."

"Noted and taken aboard, cap'n. Lead on."

~

"Well, they do say mealtimes are improved by a story," Rose said, slicing her bread into bite-sized squares and dabbing small amounts of greensap butter on them.

"Vwhat about a song?" Cronus piped up through a mouthful of dandelion salad.

"Burr, maister, iffen you c'n sing whoile stuffin' ee face loike that, you'm welcome to troi it."

Cronus flicked a hazelnut at the little molemaid who had spoken, and hit her spectacles.

"Mr Ampora! Apologise to Jade this instant!" Cronus was about to object at being ordered around by a tiny mousemaid, but saw Horuss and Rufioh giving him terrifying looks, sagged, and mumbled an apology. Rose turned back to Porrim, her smile back in place. "So, do tell us how you came to be travelling together. It's most unusual to see a bat out in daylight."

"Well..." Porrim, her daytime veil pinned up on her hatbrim to free her mouth, speared a leaf on a claw and nibbled. "Yes, it is, it is, but I have a quest of great importance. I seek my mother, you see, you see. Long ago she disappeared, and I wish to find her, or any trace, any trace."

"And I'm looking for my little brother," Rufioh added. "'Course he went much sooner... just last winter. So I'm guessing they're not in the same place, aheh, but if we find one they can help us find the other, right?"

"I have a similar story, but alas, I know exactly where my brother went," Horuss said, tutting. "The silly creature has shamed the family name and run away with a _cat!"_

Rufioh poked him. _"You_ ran away with an owl!"

"That's different..." Horuss muttered. "Besides, at least I know where he might have gone."

"True, we just have to follow the wreckage, wreckage!"

"Most amusing, Porrim. It's not Equius' fault he's a little clumsy."

"A little, a little? I met him, he sheds broken bowstrings as trees shed leaves, leaves." Porrim ignored Horuss' irritated scowl. "Still, he's a good fellow, helpful, helpful. Perhaps he can join us."

"Yeah, perhaps..."

"Why the doubt, Rufioh, Rufioh?"

"Well, Porrim, dear, your mother was already... richer in seasons than many adventurers, and she disappeared a long time ago," Horuss said gently. "I think you should be prepared for the worst-"

Porrim slapped her spoon on the table. "She was not that old, she was still healthy, she had a baby due, a _baby_ due! I was going to have a sister..."

"If the babe vwasn't born yet, howv do you knowv?"

"She told me," Porrim sighed. "Says a mother knows, mother knows." She toyed with her food, her appetite gone. "As I know she still lives."


	4. Chapter 4

The rays of the rising sun lit up the sail of the great black ship _Spiderbait_ , turning the cloth bloody red, and Marquise Spinneret Mindfang Serket surveyed her beautiful vessel with pride. The sun also glinted from the silver chain in the vixen's steel gauntlet; fine and beautiful it was too, but also very strong. As she shook it, her sleeve slid back, revealing the straps tightly binding the gauntlet to the stump of her wrist. Missing a paw had not kept her down for long, and the gauntlet, stuffed with cloth to pad her stump comfortably, made a fine substitute for a club. She could strike a beast dead with one blow from it, or in less urgent circumstances use it as a disciplinary tool from which neither her pawslave nor her crewbeasts nor even her daughters were spared.

The slave in question was collared at the other end of the chain as usual, her eyes closed tightly against the light. She had been of early middle age when she was taken thirteen seasons ago, and now her bones were brittle and protruding and her fur was stark white, though her face was still handsome and when her eyes were open it would be clear that they were an enviable vivid green. Heavier chains encircled her limbs, welded shut in a careless manner which had left now-old burn scars, and she hunched on the deck, propped up on her useless wings. It amused the Marquise deeply to keep a bat unable to fly.

In a way, Dolorosa Maryam was fortunate. She was fed better than a common oarslave, permitted to sleep on the floor of the captain's cabin with even a coat for warmth when Mindfang was feeling generous. Her duties consisted primarily of being an unusual pet to show off; very few corsairs had the luck or skill to capture a bat. She would wash and arrange the captain's clothes, clean her cabin, groom her fur, even let the captain use her wings as a living blanket when the ship sailed far north. She also received the brunt of the captain's anger, as the bruises under her tattered dress reminded her.

A shriek announced the arrival of the Marquise' youngest daughter, Vriska, a rangy little vixen with an empty sleeve in her blue greatcoat and an eyepatch emblazoned with seven tiny rubies. A second bat, this one a maid of thirteen seasons, chained in a similar manner to her mother, hobbled after Vriska as fast as she could. Kanaya Maryam's fur was nearly as pale as her mother's, her eyes as green and still bright with cautious hope despite her unfortunate life. Unlike her mother, she had never known what she was missing; she had been snatched straight from her mother's wings at her birth and returned with chains attached minutes later, and any attempts to lift herself off the deck had earned a whipping until she gave up entirely. She had never truly flown at all.

"Mama, Mama! Aranea's s'posed to be practising swords with me an' she says she's busy _reeeeaaaading!"_ Vriska rolled the last word contemptuously around in her mouth and spat it at her mother. The Marquise sighed. Aranea was quite the oddity among corsairs. The gleeful cruelty Vriska displayed seemed to have passed her by, and her fascination with navigation, history, and geography rather than physical work had earned her a label of laziness among the crew. Anybeast calling her that in the Marquise's hearing quickly met the gauntlet, though. They were still family, after all.

"And you still practise with swords when you should be reading, dear. 'Tis only fair, I think!" Mindfang ruffled Vriska's headfur and laughed. "No, I'm not criticising, you need the practice," she added, looking sadly at the cub's stump. "Not the way I would have chosen ye to take after me."

"I don't mind, mama, I was so much better than her before it just makes things fair!" Vriska said, tail up and almost vibrating with pride.

"Indeed. Now, tell me, have ye listened to your navigation lessons as well as she?" said Mindfang, pointing her gauntlet at the horizon. "Tell me where we're going."

"Ummmmmmmm...." Vriska frowned and pursed her lips, peered at the sky and waves, and said "Mossflower?"

"Indeed, love, and how do ye know?"

"Every corsair tries their luck in Mossflower! We were going there _some_ day."

The Marquise whooped with laughter and slapped Vriska's back. "Well, ye paid attention to storytime! That's my lass. A cunning fox must use all their knowledge, and useful things can come from anywhere."

"Thanks, mama." Vriska pulled her slave up to the prow, climbed the railing, and giggled, pointing out to sea. "Come, Kanaya, we sail for easy prey!"


End file.
